Perhaps This One Night
by Niphuria
Summary: Ilosovic Stayne reflects for a time during his exile with Iracebeth in the Outlands and realises something surprising. Just a short something that came to mind.


I don't own Alice in Wonderland or any of it's characters. Based on the 2010 Tim Burton film. Rated K.

Ilosovic Stayne reflects for a time during his exile with Iracebeth in the Outlands and realises something surprising.

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**Perhaps This One Night**

Ilosovic had no idea how long he and Iracebeth had been wandering the Outlands; the wretchedly barren, despairing and naked starkness of the Outlands. It had to have been at least several months Finding food and water was a feat in itself, and of course it was up to him to hunt for and cook it. Iracebeth was completely useless. For the first several days all she had done was swear revenge upon her "pin-headed" sister and rant on and on about how Mirana would pay. How every single person in Marmoreal would pay. How the Mad Hatter and Alice would pay. Over and over and over again.

Armed with only a dagger Ilosovic had, in a fit of blind red rage, tried to slit her throat on the third day. But to his shock and dismay the wound had closed up almost immediately. And then he had to listen to her harpy-like voice shrill at him for being so horrible and deceiving as to actually attempt to kill her a second time! But then he realised he may have been somewhat fortunate as he would have had the unpleasant added burden of lugging her decaying corpse around with him for only Exile knew how long.

With the same dagger he had severed the chains binding them together only to discover that he couldn't be more than about 40 feet from her at any time. So, with time and patience they had learned to exist together and eke by on the meager supplies of ground water and what animals Ilosovic hunted and killed with a bow and arrows he had made and the few plants about that were edible.

It wasn't much of a life; they both knew that. But it was the only one they had. And they had no idea how long the torture would last. Likely years, if the look in Queen Mirana's eyes had been any indicator. Perhaps for the rest of their lives. But Ilosovic couldn't let himself dwell on that possibility. Such a horror was unimaginable and he knew that since they couldn't die then they would have to just survive, co-exist in peace, and just hope that someday Mirana would have mercy upon them. So far both were still grateful that she had at least provided them with initial rations and bedrolls and a dagger each.

When that day of reprieve came, he, Ilosovic Stayne, would be a new man. He was already changing by being free from Iracebeth's tyrannical reign and his constant need to be on his toes for her and toadying to her every whim. He was learning to think more for himself and not just how to plot to keep her favour and his rank. He had actually, until now, been unable to recall much of his previous life before Iracebeth. He knew who he was and where he came from, but his memories of his time as that other Ilosovic Stayne had nearly been erased by the constant pressure he endured day in and day out for years on end under Iracebeth's Queenship.

When he was finally freed, he would return home and...and what? Ilosovic suddenly realised that he did not know what he would do. He was no longer welcome in his homeland and his family were all dead or scattered. Just as he was dead inside and scattered in the sense of being far away from any sort of habitable place. Well, of a sorts. He was determined that when he and Iracebeth came upon a wooded area; and he knew there were a number of them in the Outlands, though, unfortunately far apart, that he would make a shelter for them. Preferably a cabin and some comfortable furnishings. He could build. He was a man of many talents and he would teach Iracebeth to cook and clean if he had to beat or starve her to do so.

Hopefully he wouldn't have to do either of those things. Over their time together Iracebeth had calmed down. After days of not speaking to her each time she had yet another shrill and disturbingly insane rant she began to cease them. In time she realised that an angry and unresponsive Ilosovic was far more unbearable than an angry and responsive Ilosovic. She began to remain silent for long periods of time. And when she did speak it was timidly and almost childishly pleading. She began to express her thanks at every act of kindness from him, from providing food for her to when he deigned to speak with her.

Back at her castle he had been forced, at the peril of his very life, to pretend that he was in love with her. Now he no longer needed to maintain that abhorrant charade. Back at her castle he had tended to her physical desires with a false tenderness. No longer. But now, when he reflected on those times, he realised that they were not all bad. They were never particularly pleasant for him, even though her petite, bird-like body was pleasing to the eye and the touch. It wasn't even her over-sized head. It was her entire paranoid and unpredictable personality.

The day he had been caught cornering Um, who was in actuality Alice, showed him just how tenuous his position was with Iracebeth no matter how in love with him she was. But on occasion when he lay with her she was actually eagerly to please him. Most times he had to pleasure her with little consideration given to him. But there were times when she saw to his pleasure and each time he uttered any sound of delight or rewarded her with a genuine kiss or caress he would see her eyes light up with true passion and even...gratitude. Maybe even then she knew he didn't love her in truth, but she had been content to take whatever he was willing to offer her.

Ilosovic glanced down at her. Yes, she had changed since her downfall. She had lost all of her arrogance and vanity. She had lost all respect and fear from others. And worst of all, she had lost all sense of self-confidence. She was now a broken woman, bowed down with the weight of utter defeat, helplessness and hopelessness. She was now a thoroughly pitiful creature and Ilosovic couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of sympathy for her. He knew what it was like to be hated and shunned and passed over in every way in favour of a charming sibling. To have every dream and hard-earned shred of glory ripped away almost the moment it was attained.

And he had hated her. Hated her all along, when in truth, they were two of a kind. Ilosovic paused in their long march and Iracebeth sagged against him in fatigue. She had learned to never complain when they walked for long distances. She bore it like a Queen and Ilosovic was oddly proud of her. He placed a strong arm behind her back and shoulders to help support her. She looked up at him with her dirt-streaked and sweaty face and smiled in silent thanks.

Yes, they were indeed two of a kind. That sudden revelation was startling, but somehow it was not unwelcome. That did not mean that he would ever love her, but he realised that he could tolerate her. Their conversations were not unpleasant and neither was her company any longer. She was actually more than tolerable. And she was bearing up well considering the vastness of what she had lost. Again, he reflected, still startled, they were indeed much alike.

"Night is beginning to fall," he said. "Iracebeth, we'll be setting up a place to eat and sleep soon."

She nodded. "Yes, Ilosovic."

He knew that after dinner they would settle down before their campfire, perhaps talk a little, and then set up their bedrolls and eventually drift off to sleep under the moon and stars. And tonight...perhaps this one night...

"Iracebeth?"

"Yes, Ilosovic?"

"Would you like to...sleep in my arms tonight? And perhaps more?"

Iracebeth looked up at him wearily. "Ilosovic, you don't love me. You hate me. Please don't taunt me."

"I'm not." He looked down at her seriously, allowing his single eye to show her his sincerity.

Iracebeth stared at him in disbelief. He had been kinder to her as of late, but to...was he truly serious? She gazed up at him intently and saw the sincerity in his gaze and the slight softening of his features.

"I...I'd like that, Ilosovic."

He smiled. So would he.

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I'll probably not write any more Stayne/Iracebeth stories, but this small idea came to me and wouldn't leave me alone! All comments welcome.


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